0111-Afterlife Burnout
by Chronic Guardian
Summary: [Days of the City/Twelve Zero Zero] After about a week of roughing it, Jazz convinces Alison to take a shower. By channeling him. Which means sharing mental space. Alison figures as long as she can keep him talking, they'll be fine. The topic she picks, however... [Twelve Shots of Summer: Hexa-Code Kernel] T for language and iffy theology.


**0111-Afterlife Burnout**

By Chronic Guardian

**Written for Twelve Shots of Summer: Hexa-Code Kernel, Week 7: Burn()**

**Based on Characters and Events from the Days of the City Novel: Twelve Zero Zero**

"So, Al..."

"Mmm?" Alison looks up from filling her water bottles at a drinking fountain just long enough to give me an acknowledging glance. We both know I could probably do the work faster, considering my influence over water, but she insists on doing it herself while I keep an eye on the perimeter. "What's up, Jazz?"

"You know how us Tracers' got a nose like a bloodhound?"

Alison, being a smart cookie when it comes to emotional intelligence, takes a moment to puzzle out where I could be going with this before giving me another look. "Are you saying we've got company?"

"Nah, I'm saying I won't be able to tell if we keep up like this," I correct her lightly, rubbing a finger under my nose. "Or, more to the point: You're kinda fillin' the airwaves, if ya catch my drift."

She frowns and discreetly tucks her nose towards an armpit to check the situation for herself. Judging by the way her mouth wrinkles, it's fair to say she's come to a similar conclusion.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," I add before she can call me out for manners. Sure, it's the truth, but she's still a lady, and even a two bit scamp like me knows better than to push my luck when it comes to women's hygiene. "Just what happens when you're living on the road. If we find a good spot to take a shower, we can get you right back up to snuff in no time."

"A shower?" Alison repeats, and not without a generous helping of skepticism.

"I mean… yeah, that's the usual way to clean up, right? Not like we got a bath tub. Or were you thinkin' sponge?"

"We don't have a shower either," she points out. "Closest thing is park bathroom sinks, and I don't think I can even fit my head in one of those."

I raise an eyebrow. "Sinks with water?"

She catches on before I can explain my idea and shakes her head. "Oh, don't even think about it."

"What? You don't think it's a responsible use of channeling?"

"It's _channeling_," she says, like that makes it obvious. "It means I'll have to let you in my head. And I don't know how the hell they did it in your time period, but nowadays showering is kind of a private activity."

"Oh, foo, I can wait outside. So long as you don't visualize rubbing yourself down, I'll keep innocent."

She still squares her jaw and gives me a defiant frown. I kind of get it. We've only known eachother two weeks at this point, and I am a gentleman of considerably longer years and fewer boundaries than herself. But on the other hand, I really am bringing this up more as a practical concern than anything else, and if I were interested in spying on her then my cover would be blown the moment our minds made contact. Not like she had to lower any defenses before then.

"One condition," she says after a moment.

"I'm gonna assume 'no peeking' and 'cover the exits' count as given," I reply dryly.

Blowing past my assumptions, Alison huffs and looks away. "We have to talk," she says.

"...Ain't we talkin' now?"

"I meant during the shower, Jazz. I know you can't concentrate on more than one thing at a time, so if you're focused on our conversation then I'll know you're keeping clean."

"Ohhh, right, gotcha. Makes sense." I nod. Knowing me, it's probably gonna leave a hell of a blind spot in my lookout abilities, but if that's what it takes to clear the air then I'll risk it. Bringing up stuff like that will have to wait until I'm sure I don't have to walk on eggshells with this girl.

With the arrangements sealed, we pack up and move for the park restroom building. It's one of those cinder block setups designed to only offer minimal insulation. I figure that's so homeless folks don't get the idea to set up shop, but we still go in together and poke around just to make sure it's clear before I head for the roof.

It's a nice night on the town when I get up there. Streetlights make for warm bubbles in the fog like old Christmas twinklers wrapped up in gauze. I lean back and breath in the air. It doesn't quite smell like rain, and I'm getting a heavy whiff of guilty cigarettes along other assorted scents you shouldn't have to associate with relatively isolated public works. I'm working on categorizing them when I feel Alison tap into my power and start the channeling.

_So…_ her voice slips into my mind like she's the last one on a cramped elevator and I'm the sweatiest mook closest to the door. _You like the view from up there?_

I smirk. _I thought we agreed on 'no peeking'._

Alison sends me up a feeling that's trying not be amusement. _Oh, whatever._

_Sorry, first thing that came to mind,_ I sigh, dangling my legs over the edge and tracing tree silhouettes with me eyes. _Might help if you got somethin' you been wanting to ask. Any zingers you been keepin' in the closet?_

Considering how straightforward Alison has been so far, it's probably a dumb suggestion. I think I might actually choke a little when she says 'yes'.

_I mean, kind of,_ she adds quickly. _Just… I haven't quite wrapped my head around it yet. _

I close my eyes and breathe out. _Go on..._

_Well… _She stops for a second, but I can't tell if she's psyching herself up to it or just trying to be articulate. Then:_ What does it mean to be dead?_

My eyes crack open again. _You mean like: if I can still gab with folks and put the hullabaloo on with the physical world, then what does that even mean anymore?_

_No, I mean like… why aren't there more of you?_ Alison goes on. _You know, what kills a Ghost?_

_'Kills', huh?_ I huff a chuckle at the word choice. I know what she means, but I've been starved of jokes in general for the better part of the last half-century, so forgive me for laughing at the low-hanging fruit. _You wanna rephrase that, Al?_

Alison, who is actually pretty emotionally mature when she's not in near-death hysterics, simply sends up the metaphysical equivalent of an eye roll and tries again. _What makes Ghosts _disappear_, Jazz. Is it just people like us going around and kicking the shit out of them, or is there something else going on?_

_I mean, when it comes to shit kicking, life in general does a pretty good job without our help._

_Oh, so _you're_ allowed to say Ghosts have lives,_ she retorts. _The double standard strikes back._

_Eh... don'tcha mean 'strikes again'?_

_No, it's a..._ she stops, and there's a moment of tactical indecision as she wavers over whether or not it's worth explaining. Eventually, she sees the futility of the effort and just moves on. _Forget it. Anyway, so _Ghosts_._

_Ah, yes, Ghosts_, I repeat back in my best grandfatherly voice, settling back into an imaginary armchair. Not like Alison can see the impression, but my own grandad always told stories from his armchair and I guess I've always been a bit of a method actor. _Well, my dear Al, as you've surmised: we don't last forever._

Alison sends me a bland smile for managing to introduce absolutely no new information. _You don't say._

_Oh, but I do,_ I assure her with exaggerated gravity. _And, as you've also so cleverly surmised, some of that's due to… _ahem_, 'disciplinary measures' taken by either the Ghosts around them or an intervening interloper from elsewise in the Absolute. Mostly, though, that way out is reserved for Malevolents._

_Sooo, the worms?_

_Ehhh, that and assorted varieties,_ I say, tilting my hand back and forth. Technically, she's talking about Parasites specifically, but she's in the ballpark so I still give it to her. _Anyway, your friendly neighborhood variety—represented by fine specimens such as myself—they tend to go, uh… quieter, I guess you'd say?_

I give the statement plenty of breathing room, just in case Alison loses interest. It's not that I haven't seen it happen, but seeing and understanding hardly count as the same thing. Most of what I know is taken from a church father who prayed the churchyard I was buried next to and the rest is from an old buddy who went on back in eighty-eight. I can kind of paraphrase what they said, but it probably won't make the most sense. I've always figured that the less I think about it, the less it affects me.

Still, Alison must tell I'm holding out on her, because she nudges me to continue.

_Look, it's complicated stuff,_ I mutter back.

_What, you're saying you're not an expert?_

I know she's ribbing me, but my feathers ruffle anyway. _I said no such humbug, young lady. Just not sure if you'll get it all at once, okay?_

_Oh, sure._

_Right. Now, where was I?_

_Going quietly?_

_Ah, yeah, that. _I clear my throat and adjust myself in my armchair. _So… basically, there are a few ways a Ghost can… well, we'll call it 'move on' for now. Dependin' on how they got snuffed, some Ghost types can do stuff to take care of the regret bindin' 'em here. If you get someone who died in the name of love, for example, they might get their ticket out if their sweetheart reciprocates that love back. Tracers like me? We gotta find what we were lookin' for._

_Okay… so is there a category for people who… died in an act of betrayal, I guess? You know, like they have to get revenge?_

_I mean, maybe? Not sure if there's a Spirit type for it, but you could probably pick out a few Malevolents with that as their defining aspect. They'd have to be pretty damn forgiving for that to be their anchor without being bitter about it._

_And Malevolents are the worm things, right?_

_Worms and other deadly denizens of the animal kingdom, _I sigh, now regretting not correcting her the first time. Something tells me the slip is gonna bite me in the ass every time from now on.

_Yeah, but not people, right? Not like something you could channel?_

_Oh, yeah, no. _Definitely_ not like that, _I agree. _Even if there were humanoid shaped Malevolents out there, they'd be way too impulsive to work with a channeler. All that negativity is kinda like a vacuum, you know? Sucks in whatever life it can get its hands on. You try to hook that up to a live human and you're gonna end up with a dead human._

At the back of my mind, I know this probably relates back to Tania somehow—everything is about Tania for Alison—but I'm doing my best not to broach the subject. It's funny, because that was one of the terms for our partnership—that I not try to play shrink with Alison's baggage—but so far she's been way worse at bringing it up than me.

I frown at the rising moon and its blocky skyscraper cutouts as our conversation lapses into silence. Maybe that's the real reason Alison keeps me around: so she has someone to distract her from Tania.

I keep the thought to myself, of course. Touching Alison's funny buttons while she's trying to channel me would be just asking for a meltdown. Instead, I try to move on with the explanation for both our sakes.

_So, anyway…_

Alison cuts in before I can fully catch my balance. _We were talking about ways for Ghosts to move on?_

I send a dry smile to the moon. Maybe she's just as eager to gloss as I am. _Yeah, thanks. So, as I was sayin'..._

I go over the rest of what I know without incident. We talk about Ghosts that run out of Time, or get sent to the next level of existence by a priest. That brings up a long discussion on the fine lines between religion and spirituality, something she's more or less blown off since teenhood, and it takes me the better part of fifteen minutes to briefly sum up how that all fits into the Absolute.

By the time I'm done, Alison is finished running water over herself. She comes out and holds her arms in a t-pose for inspection while giving my perch an exasperated expression.

"Happy now?"

I hop down, sniff the air, and nod my approval. "Ah, much better," I say, holding out a hand to draw off the remaining excess moisture. "Fresh as a daisy!"

Alison grunts. "Glad you approve, dad."

I shrug and move to gather our things. There's a play structure planted in a sandbox further down the way that she's eying; it looks as good a place as any to spend the night. "Upkeep is important, alright?"

"So long as it keeps your nose working, I guess."

"Well… I—uh," I fumble on the sentiment a moment. It's not _really_ what I mean, but it is important. "Yeah, there's that."

"What, you worried about me looking like a hobo?" she asks, pushing the offensive.

"...I mean, do you _want_ to look like you was born in a dump?"

"Might make things easier…" she muses, flipping some auburn hair back over her shoulder. "So long as they don't bother anyone, transients are practically invisible to the rest of society."

"Invisible?" I balk. "Oh, trust me, Al. I already got us there. You we gotta keep fresh, 'specially if you plan on getting' back to life after we—"

I realize too late where I'm going with this and cut myself off before I have a proper segue in place.

"After we find Tania?" Alison finishes for me. Her voice isn't quite a growl, but it's definitely a few click lower than normal.

"Uh… yeah," I nod. "After that."

She stops a moment to look up at the starless sky and hunch her shoulders up in a sigh. "I dunno, Jazz," she says. "I kind of burned that bridge a while ago."

I bite my lip and study the back of her head. I can't go for a channeling without her knowing it, and she'll probably clam up if I do. The most I can do in this situation is mind my own business and just stick to our agreement.

I can't even tell why I'm curious in the first place, though. Outside of some half-assed tracking, Tania isn't my problem. Same should go for Alison: she's my taxi cab around the city until we find Tania, but we both know it's over after that.

...So then why do I care what she does afterwords?

"Anyway," Alison starts again, forcing a start to the conversation. "Any other ways a Ghost can go out? It sounded like there was more before we started talking religious shit."

I just stare for a moment, as if she just spun around and slapped me silly instead of suggesting we move on from a load of hogwash neither of us really know what to do with. Blinking off the shock, I set my mouth and try to think of what I might be missing.

"I mean… we went over expired goods, damaged goods, forwarded goods..." I tick off methods on my fingers, then hover on a fourth. "...We didn't talk about Givin' Up the Ghost, huh?"

Alison throws a look over her shoulder. "Is it pretty much what it sounds like?"

I take a hesitant breath. "Self-selected termination?"

"Yeah," she waves it off. "Never mind then. I'm not worried about that."

"Oh..." I tilt my head, "you ain't?"

"Tania's not that type," she explains. "If she's moving on before I find her again, it's not gonna be like that."

"Well, yeah, but..."

"But?"  
I stop at the edge of the sand surrounding the play structure and squint up at the pretend spires and child-sized rope ladders. I know what I want to say, but I can't for the life of me say why. I mean, yeah, I get it on a basic level: I don't want her to die. But what's it matter to me if we'll be making like a banana anyway at that point?

"Just…" I cross my arms and do my best to put words to it. "Don't burnout yet, kid. Alright? Don't be in such a rush to get it over with."

Alison turns around just shy of ducking under the play structure to lean my bottle up against one of the support beams. "What's the worst that could happen? I end up like you?"

I want to laugh. Alison does so for the both of us, and with perfectly articulated sarcasm to boot. We both know that's not the worst. Hell, even her not manifesting as a Ghost at all isn't the worst.

But I swear, if this girl comes back as a Malevolent then I'm cashing out then and there.

Alison turns back in and I'm left alone with my bottle outside. I can hear some crickets in the distance but for the most part it's a silent night. I shouldn't disturb it. I should just go get some rest and leave it all until we forget about it tomorrow.

Floating back to my medium, I settle down and try to tell myself I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it.

It takes about five seconds for me to realize that is a filthy lie.

Sighing to myself, I reluctantly poke my head inside and prepare to beat a hasty retreat.

"Hey, Al?"

"Mmm?" Alison, curled up against a wall of rotatey-thinga-ma-whatsits, doesn't even pop an eye.

I take one last breath before I burn my escape route. "Look, do me a favor and have a reason when you die, alright? And I mean a good reason. None of this dying for revenge or any of that. I want you to live a long happy life. You get me?"

Alison's silent, and for a minute I'm positive I've just laid the groundwork for getting fired tomorrow. But then, almost imperceptibly, she nods.

"...Yeah, sure."

"You mean it?" I press. "You're not just sayin' that so I'll let you catch some Zs, right?"

"_Yes_, I mean it." Her voice is edging on frustrated, but I also catch a little bit of determination, a little bit of fight. "Can I sleep now?"

"Yeah, sorry. You uh… you sleep tight kid, alright?"

Alison just grunts. "Good night, Jazz."

"Good night, Al," I smile and retreat to my bottle. "See ya in the morning."

Speaking of, I've probably just racked up a nice long lecture on personal boundaries for tomorrow's walk, but that's okay.

I've still got some fight left in me.

**[End]**

_Author's Notes_

Isn't releasing fan fiction for unofficially released stories fun?

So, I'll be honest: I probably went for the loosest, most obscure take on the prompt I could get because I committed the cardinal sin of coming up with a title before thinking about what the heck kind of story would go with it. That's not to say this doesn't align with the title, but as far as "burn" goes, I feel like that's more applicable as a metaphor for "will to live/endure" in this case.

...Unless you want to count Ali and Jazz's conversational burns. I guess you could do that too.

Anyway, so: these characters that you have no context for. Alison is from the original novel Twelve Zero Zero by Paige K Duffy that is not officially released as of this writing, but is certainly close. I had the opportunity to beta for this story and enjoyed it enough to write my own spin-off (with some official personal blessings, of course) using an OC Ghost to accompany Alison for some post(mid?)canon events.

Writing Alison, who is supposed to be both conversationally competent and a bit of an assertive firecracker, was a fun challenge. As Ali isn't actually in most of the book, I mostly tried to construct her based off of her canon relationship partner and what I feel would be complementary/desirable traits to that person. It's… really quite an adventure, and not a recommended way to write a character, but here we are. CG loves redemption arcs, so consequences be darned.

That said, Jasper "Jazz" Lewis was written as a foil for post-canon traumatized Alison. He's got little hints in him that echo stuff she's done, but he's also very old-fashioned and not quite sure how to deal with an assertive woman. As the noncombative type, he's usually more comfortable using his mouth to solve his problems than anything else, but when the going gets rough he's usually pretty dependable.

...That said, his water based powers make him basically the absolute worst for a prompt like "burn", but whatever.

Anyway, despite the lack of context, I hope you were able to enjoy this! Twelve Shots of Summer 2019 is now officially over the halfway point, so maybe go and check out the library so far. We've got some great picks this year, from frank economic observations of _Frozen_'s foreign policies to abstract poetry about life itself. Why not swing by the forum and check out the billboard? Or, for even more context on this one shot in particular, maybe check out the companion piece on my page: **Broken, Together**.

In the meantime, though, I hope you have a wonderful summer! Thanks for reading!

-CG

[21/JUL/2019]


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